(It’s been a while since I wrote one of these, but here goes.)
I went on a walk. It had been a while. I needed to. My head was still full of the day that had passed. My girlfriend had broken up with me, and all the tension was a bit to much. I just needed the walk. Alone. I had left my german shepherd, Daffy, at home. Daffy Dog as I used to call him. My most loyal companion, one whom would never forsake me for another human or for a cat, or for a horny bitch, walking in heat right in front of him. He would keep eye-contact with me and not go after her. He was a stubborn little fellow, but so loyal. I couldn’t take him with me. He would want to play; Would need my every attention. I needed to be alone for a while.
It was when I came home that I regretted not taking him with me. The door was open. I was certain I had closed it before I left. My first thought was my dog. My dog was my anything. She had left me for some guy she had gotten to know on the internet. I don’t know where, or how. But she had left in a hurry, forgetting some of her pieces. I noticed she was acting strange and had gotten her message that she was gone. She had given Daffy his food and had bought him a new toy and for me: my dinner would be in the cookbook. I came home. Boiled myself a few eggs and went on my walk, but now regretted even leaving the house.
I entered the door and saw blood. Footsteps too, so I took my phone and called the cops. They were quick to come by and saw what had happened. They found a bloody trail and a dead dog in the yard. Skull caved in with a shovel. The bloody shovel was right next to my dog. But the blood trail didn’t end there. They found some on the trees that were at the end of my yard, where the culprit or the bastard that killed my dog must have supported himself while running away from the scene.
Daffy must have gotten him good. I know it was a him because no woman has a size 47 shoe, or if they do, they must be giants. My girlfriend wasn’t a giant and there was no sign of forced entry, so she must have given the key to that bastard she is sleeping with now. I don’t know why he had to be in my house, but Daffy had droven him out. That loyal bastard had defended his territory. He had bitten the guy. I don’t know where, but he had bitten him well enough that there was now a DNA trail to follow. But I lost my dog, my most loyal companion. My best friend, to some bitch and her bastard.